“There she is,” said Harry.

“Oh, I've got Colonel Fubster managing them,” boomed Aunt Marge. “He's retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn't leave poor old Ripper. He pines if he's away from me.”

Fudge, a portly little man in a long, pinstriped cloak, looked cold and exhausted.

“Get on — there's not much time,” said Harry, gripping Buckbeak firmly on either side of his sleek neck to hold him steady. “You've got to get out of here -the Dementors are coming — Macnair's gone to get them.”

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